All or Nothing
by Trick21
Summary: Beckett & Castle have one night  with alcohol  and chalk it up to a mistake.  They make a bet; Castle hopes it'll give him time to change her mind. A planned murder, the murderer, and real life, intrude.  Maybe staying alive is more important this time.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everyone! This is my first fanfiction, so please point out anything that has gone horribly wrong! ****T Rating because sometimes my language gets away from me, probably won't change and if it does... Well you'll probably spot why**** :)  
**

**And wow, I knew there was a character limit on the summaries but WOW. Its a chore in and of itself to try and figure out what to put in those! :D**

**Anyway, ignore me and read on, hope you like it!**

The bedroom was lit with only the muted light from the lamp in the hall outside. Most of the room was in shadow, but there was enough light when he woke to let him squint blearily at the figure tugging their clothes on somewhere by the wardrobe. They had evidently been trying to be quiet, but if there was one thing he was cursed with, it was the inability to sleep through any kind of noise. He was a light sleeper of the worst kind.

"What are you doing?" he murmured the words and her head snapped around to face him, "It's not even light outside. I doubt the alcohol is even out of your system yet,"

Alcohol. That horrific, but oh so good substance that had helped her convince herself (with only a small amount of help from him and his own alcohol levels) that it would be a good idea to kiss him, to let him kiss her -

And to go somewhere his mind was _oh-so-willing_ to go back to -

"I have to go," she replied simply, the words enough to snap him back out of it, "We shouldn't have done this,"

"You're right," he agreed distractedly, mind whirring in an attempt to figure out how to make her _stop_ what she was doing, "We probably shouldn't have. But now we have, can't we just enjoy it until its daylight and you're road legal?"

"That's not a good idea, Castle,"

"I never said it was," he replied shifting out of the bed himself. He grabbed a pair of jeans to ward off the cold and slid into them in the same motion as standing. The tense figure of Beckett on the other side of the room hadn't moved and he crossed to her, "You don't have to run. If you want to pretend this didn't happen, let's go downstairs, have a couple of coffees and sober you up. then you can head off,"

"Right. Because you're going to be able to do that,"

"As you like to point out every so often, I'm the _King _of casual sex," he responded easily, "I can assure you that if that is what you want me to do, that is what will happen,"

He knew in the darkness of the room she wouldn't be able to read his expression and he was glad. Because if she'd seen his face during that last part she would have known he was lying through his teeth. For all the rumours about his personal life, there had never really been _casual_. He had a daughter to think about after all, and casual to her was painful and confusing. Sure, some women might have disappeared on him, much like she was trying to do now, but he had never purposely put himself in the situation that he would try to sneak out. but if letting her think that would keep her that much closer... he was content to let her continue. But someday he'd have to put her straight, no matter what she did to him or certain parts of his anatomy.

He'd grown up with a single mother after all, there were some things about dealing with them that had been ingrained from an early age.

She was surveying him, and he could tell from her silence that she was hesitant about accepting his offer, but also wanted to take it, to see if this _thing_ between them had altered. To see if a few hours of sex had changed their dynamic. He chuckled quietly,

"If I throw in pancakes, will that make it easier?" he asked. He saw the eye roll in his mind's eye and couldn't resist a grin of his own, one that again she wouldn't be able to see.

"Fine," she agreed, "But if we get downstairs and you renege on your deal... I'm gone,"

"Well in that case –" his hand slid along her jaw and drew her closer so he could kiss her firmly, not allowing her to pull back as he tasted her lips one final time. He had about four seconds before she shoved him back and hit him in the chest. It wasn't a painful blow, but it was enough to tell him it hadn't been appreciated,

"What the _hell_?" she demanded, "You just said –"

"I know," he interrupted, "I'm done. I'm sorry. I overstepped. I just – before you pushed me away completely," he was rambling a little in his explanation and she drew back physically, heading towards the door.

"Well now I'd say you owe me coffee, pancakes _and _bacon," she muttered, "Let's go, because at some point I'm going to have to go back home,"

He grinned at that and watched her step out into the hallway,

"And put a shirt on," she added, turning to glance back at him.

"Your wish is my command," he replied, the smile obvious in his voice. He reached into the wardrobe he was stood beside and pulled out of the first shirt he laid hands on. Sliding into it he quickened his pace so he could catch up to her before she convinced herself that running from the apartment was still her best idea.

All she had done was flick on the coffee machine by the time he reappeared and she turned to face him, eyes narrowing as she watched him button up the deep red shirt.

"That isn't one I recognise,"

He glanced to her and then back to the shirt, looking a little guilty,

"I don't wear it all that often," he admitted, "It was a present from my mother, who also decided, on one of her rare attempts at being helpful, that she'd wash it for me,"

He stretched out his arms and her grin widened as she noted that the sleeves stopped about mid-forearm. He flashed her a quick grin and then pushed them back up to the elbows, folding them quickly to stop them sliding back down,

"Now you know my secret. Do _not_ tell my mother,"

"At this point I think I'd help you hide a body if it'd get me a cup of coffee any faster," she returned dryly. He grinned and glanced across to the coffee machine, still doing its thing, in the corner of his kitchen,

"Any minute now," he promised. Then he began pulling out everything he'd need for pancakes. He was trying to keep his hands and eyes busy for the sole reason that, if they weren't doing anything, they would irresistibly be drawn to the woman seated at his breakfast bar. And that would make her run. And if she ran, he probably wouldn't see her for – a good while.

Maybe three whole days.

The thought was inconceivable to him-

"Chocolate chip?" he questioned, "Blueberry? Plain? How do you like them?"

"Chocolate chip and bacon?" she raised her eyebrows and he grinned,

"I forgot you added that small request... one moment and – voila!" after diving into the fridge he brandished a packet of the desired breakfast product and place it on the counter before continuing with his chores,

"So how is Alexis finding college, anyway?"

He could tell just from her tone that she was trying to do the same thing he was and not make things awkward, so he flashed her a quick grin,

"She's loving it. She's made some good friends already, she's got herself a job at a small cafe and her course has her hooked. If it wasn't on the other side of the country, I think I'd be completely over the moon for her. As it is...she's going to have to settle for me being happy for her,"

She laughed softly at that and he glanced at her for one brief moment before starting to mix up the batter.

"I think she misses your random little chatting-over-coffee meetings though," he remarked, "Every time she phones I get asked about you. I've told her a half dozen times just to phone you directly but she doesn't want to disturb you,"

She smiled at that,

"As opposed to her father, who calls at every opportunity, good or bad –"

"I'm slowly breaking the habit," he argued lightly.

"By spending _more _time at the Precinct," she replied, "That isn't a solution, that's just making sure you're close enough to not _have_ to call,"

"Well, whatever works," he offered her a grin at the words, "I haven't been that distracting have I?"

"I think you've done your best," she murmured. He chuckled at that and for a few minutes the kitchen descended into silence. But it wasn't awkward. If anything it was relaxed and for the two people on different sides of the kitchen bar, it was a relief to discover.

"OK," as he finished the promised meal, which should have been breakfast but was approximately four hours too early to be breakfast, he slid two plates before her, "The promised bacon and pancakes,"

"With no coffee," she observed. He winced,

"My bad," turning he delivered up the late coffee before slipping around to sink down onto the stool beside hers and tuck into his own plate of food.

Even at four in the morning it was well received and it took him approximately four seconds to figure out why. The whole idea of their evening had been to order food in and watch a movie. If he remembered correctly, within moments of stepping into the elevator their plans had changed.

Dangerous ground. Even the thought of what had happened in the elevator was enough to make his stomach tighten.

"This is really good. But I'm beginning to wonder if you're something of a one-trick pony,"

"What?" the offended look he sent her way was only half teasing, "I'll have you know I'm a great cook,"

"I think you're going to have to prove it to me," she shook her head as she took another bite. He surveyed her curiously, but then he nodded,

"Alright. Let me know when and you can come over and try something other than pancakes," he agreed, "I've got a fair few dishes you'll like, so I'll even let you pick what sort of food we'll be eating,"

"That sounds like a bet,"

"Take it any way you like," he returned easily. A grin appeared on her face and he was grateful, even though it was at the small cost of his ego, to see it. He'd been concerned that, even though she had decided to stay, she would be as withdrawn as she used to be when he first started following her.

"Alright," she studied him carefully, "If you fail to impress me, you stay in the car when I tell you for two weeks,"

"One week," he bargained, "Not including the days we don't leave the Precinct,"

"Deal," she nodded,

"And if I win – " he studied her thoughtfully. She crooked an eyebrow at him,

"What?"

"You have dinner with me every night for a week,"

"What? No way," she shook her head. He grinned,

"Something about my company that bothers you?"

"I do like having some of my nights to myself," she replied,

"What if I promise that three of them are very quick and don't also mean a night in my company?" he bargained. She didn't look convinced and he rolled his eyes,

"Alright. If I win, you have to have dinner with me five times, when I ask, but not consecutively," he sounded bored. She shook her head,

"I'll take the first one,"

He blinked,

"Really?" he sounded delighted and she shrugged,

"I'd rather get them over with quickly than let you drag them out," she responded, "We have a deal,?"

This was such a bad idea. He knew it from the fact it was being made spur of the moment in the middle of the night while there were still traces of alcohol in their system. And he wasn't even counting their sudden hope to keep things as normal as possible, or the big elephant in the room they were both trying to ignore by talking about other things.

It was a bad idea. But he still found himself nodding at her question,

"You've got yourself a deal,"

He managed to hold off her departure until 6am. Through a mixture of pleading, bribing and distracting her, he'd gotten them onto about their third cup of coffee and with the early morning news in front of them. He was hoping (although really she was the cop so it was up to her) that it had left enough time for her to sober up.

But eventually she insisted and slipped into her jacket and shoes and began for the door. But she paused and it gave him a chance to catch up.

"I realise that this was- awkward," he spoke carefully, "And I know we're going to forget it. but I think I need to tell you that –" he hesitated, noting the uncomfortable look on her face, when she didn't run away though, he took it as indication he could continue, "I enjoyed tonight,"

A slow burn of colour made its way through her cheeks and he smiled a little as she did, relieved that she wasn't about to slap him for bringing it up again.

"I did too," she admitted. Then her smile faded, "But it doesn't change anything. We can't do that and still work on the cases together,"

He fought the urge to bring up the obviously working example of Lanie and Esposito and instead nodded, keeping his face as neutral as he could manage it.

"And tell Alexis she can call me whenever she wants to," she added, still standing in the doorway, "I don't mind. It'd be nice to hear from her, and it's easier for her to call me. I don't have lectures that will be interrupted,"

"I'll pass on the message," he promised, "And I'll see you in a few hours,"

"We don't have a case,"

"I know. But it sure beats sitting in an empty apartment with only a laptop for company,"

"You're a writer, the laptop is supposed to be enough," she grinned at him and he shrugged,

"Then maybe I'm not much of a writer," the comment was a throwaway, not really serious, but he noted the change in her expression. Although it was a look he didn't understand. Whatever thought crossed her mind though, it was enough to propel her out of his doorway.

"I'll see you soon, Castle,"

"You definitely will, Detective," he says the words to her retreating back as she started away from him and he stopped in the doorway, watching her go, his own unreadable expression taking pride of place on his features. He had _no idea_ how they were going to handle this one. At least, he didn't know how _he_ was going to handle it. She seemed to already have it packed it away in its own little box. It wasn't a thought he liked and when he finally closed the door he leant his head against it, eyes sliding closed.

What had begun as a night straight out of his dreams had turned to one right out of his nightmares.

**And that's the first chapter. Should I continue? Should I turn in my Words Processor skills for a library card? **


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow. May I just say your response to my first ever chapter on FF was _amazing_? I can't begin to describe how awesome it was to see them all, especially since they're all so positive! I hope you enjoy this one just as much and if not, feel free to tell me why :)**

**(And just because I forgot a disclaimer last time...I don't own Castle. Or Beckett. Or anyone else.)  
**

Why, why, _why_ had she made a bet with Rick Castle? The instant she had stepped into the elevator to take her out of his building, the thought had hit her like a tonne of bricks. She'd made a bet which could result in having to spend even more time out of the Precinct with him. She was _insane_. It was the only explanation.

Because if she had been in her right mind, she would have refused and even considered the idea of asking him to stay at home for a little while, to focus on his writing, so she could have some time to figure out exactly what to do with the now intimate knowledge she had of the writer. And maybe even work out exactly how her perspective of him as a man and friend had changed.

Because for all she had said they'd have to forget it to Castle, in the very few hours it had been since she had left his apartment, the memory of him, be it making her pancakes or looming over her in the darkness of his bedroom, hadn't been far from her mind. It didn't matter what she did to distract herself. Something always brought her back to Rick Castle.

She had almost been glad when she'd gotten the call from Esposito to meet them at a new scene. The realisation that she would have to see Castle scant hours after leaving just unsettled her though. When she had been stood in his doorway it hadn't seemed like such a big deal. But now? She'd thought about it, and maybe it was just paranoia, but she had the distinct feeling he wouldn't be able to leave it alone. That he was going to do something to embarrass her, or leave her open to teasing from Esposito and Ryan for the next – decade. But having a case to focus on was a hell of a lot better than just having him appear at the Precinct with nothing to do.

But case or no, she still put off calling him until she was in a parked car just outside the taped perimeter of their latest crime scene. Outside of the windows she could see Esposito and Lanie stood by the body. Both were clearly in professional mode, but as she left the message for Castle on his phone she noted the small smile her friend sent to the man at her side.

She shoved open the car door and climbed out, taking in the deserted stretch of road. As of yet there were no reporters, something for which she was grateful. Whilst there were never _hundreds_, the vulture-like attitude they usually possessed was not something she was confident she could deal with on barely an hour's sleep and her nerves as frayed as they were.

She left the car, ducked under the tape and crossed into the isolated greenery of an inner-city garden. It wasn't huge, but it was enough to give the body, slumped against one of the park benches, some cover from the road.

"Good morning, Detective Beckett," Lanie offered her a beaming smile, "You don't look all that happy today,"

"I'm fine," she nodded to the body, "What have we got?"

"Not a lot I'm afraid," Lanie looked guilty, "Your victim is Daniel Weston, 28 years old, married," she handed over the wallet the information had come from, "He was strangled, I already checked the patterns and it _isn't _your boy Tyson. Whatever killed him is thinner; it left a deeper imprint and probably brought them down a hell of a lot faster. He's been dead roughly six hours. And judging from the drag marks coming from the other end of the park, he wasn't killed here." Lanie hiked a thumb over her should and Beckett glanced to the coloured evidence markers which littered the ground, she nodded briefly, evidently trying to see what would have happened in her minds eye.

"We might be able to find something to help you place him before his death ... but I wouldn't get your hopes up. As a scene, this place is pretty tidy, which bodes badly for you,"

Beckett crouched down beside the body, surveying the markings Lanie had mentioned. The second woman crouched down at her side, reaching forward with a gloved hand,

"What is interesting, is that we found a note right in here," she touched the shirt pocket situated over his heat briefly, "Looked a pretty interesting one too,"

"A note?" Beckett, straightening, couldn't help the confused expression, "What exactly –"

"It's addressed to us," Esposito explained grimly, "To the 12th Precinct,"

"Where is it?"

"I called in a favour and had one of my team take it back to be analysed immediately. Guy up there owes me for some rushed results. I figured you'd want it finished with as soon as possible. Ryan's got a photo for you," Lanie surveyed the body before them while Beckett processed the favour and looked for the aforementioned man,

"Where _is_ he?"

"Talking to the woman who found Weston," Esposito pointed a pen towards the other end of the park. Just over the forensic team currently working on the scene she could make out the second of her detectives talking to a woman perched on the bonnet of a car. She nodded,

"Alright. When he's finished tell him to find me,"

"Where –" Esposito looked confused as she began out of the park. She pointed across the road she'd arrived on,

"I'm going to see if the shop has any cameras pointing this way," she replied abruptly, "It won't be much even if they do, but it'll give us something,"

As she spun around to leave them, she knew the two of them would be exchanging looks, but she didn't really care. Because from what Lanie had said, it looked as though they were in for another long one.

One day she was going to arrive at a crime scene to find the murder weapon and the killer still there, confessing repeatedly with absolutely no intention of making her life difficult. It would be beautiful. A record breaker.

It was just a pity that even thinking of that brought to mind the sight of little flying pigs and she grimaced. She needed coffee.

But even with her caffeine addiction screaming at her, there was also the small and niggling, traitorous thought in the back of her mind slyly suggesting what she _needed_ was nothing to do with coffee, and everything to do with an as yet un-arrived writer. It wasn't like she'd been craving coffee last night -

* * *

He knew, as soon as he arrived, that she'd waited to call him. Usually he at least _saw_ Lanie at the crime scene, but when he arrived, coffees and breakfast in hand, she was all but packed up and ready to go. Beckett was stood with the boys a little away from the ME van, evidently discussing something related to the case, and the rest of the usual team were either fielding the arriving reporters or photographing the scene.

"Good morning, Mr Castle," Lanie spotted him first out of them all and he offered her a charming smile,

"Dr Parish, you're looking _very_ put together for this time of the morning,"

The ME grinned,

"I hate to break it to you Castle, for most people... this isn't that early."

"If I had a hand free, Lanie, it'd be on my heart. You cut me to the quick," he made a sorrowful face and she smiled,

"I'd go and give her that coffee, or she might actually start skinning you," her tone was light, but he heard the note of real warning and glanced back to the ram-rod straight figure of Beckett. Lanie was right, in contrast to the relatively relaxed figure who had left his apartment, Beckett looked as though she was ready to start snapping at people.

"Well, I wouldn't argue with a Doctor," he offered her a crooked grin, "I imagine we'll be seeing you soon,"

"Mm probably," she agreed, "But I've got a hot date to get to, so I'm going to go,"

She didn't even wait for him to reply before sliding into the back of the truck, where the other half of her date was waiting, and his brow furrowed as the doors closed on her.

"Hot is possibly not the adjective I would have chosen," he murmured.

"Yo Castle!" Esposito's voice hailed him and he turned quickly to join the group stood beside Beckett's car, "I sure as hell hope you were lost in thought and not staring at something you shouldn't have been," the Detective offered him a piercing look which was countered, only just, by a faint grin. Castle grinned in return and moved to join them.

"Is one of those for me?" Beckett sounded exhausted and he slid his gaze to her before deftly handing her the cup with her preferred caffeine,

"And just because I was feeling generous –" he took his own and then handed the final two to Ryan. The youngest of the Detectives looked as though Christmas had come early,

"Thanks Castle," he took one and then passed the last to Esposito, "Were you generous to buy us breakfast too?"

"Unfortunately no," the writer passed the paper bag in his other hand to Beckett, "I said I was feeling generous, not that I wanted bankrupt myself. But I will spring for a couple of pizzas later on,"

None of them said a word as they drank from the cups and Castle studied them all a little concerned,

"Is there a new rule that I don't know about? Any coffee which remains after ten seconds will be snatched away?"

"Long night,"

Esposito and Ryan almost chorused the words and glanced to each other a little warily as they both did so. Castle quirked a small grin. Beckett started speaking before he could make a joke though,

"Esposito, Ryan, get back to the Precinct, let's see if we can find out who Daniel Weston was and maybe why someone would want him dead," she was speaking matter-of-factly, "And as soon as they finish with the note, make sure it's on my desk,"

Castle's ears almost perked up at that,

"Note? What note? Is it a revenge killing? A coded message?" his usual level of enthusiasm didn't seem appreciated and Beckett, taking yet another mouthful of coffee, watched the two other detectives leave, leaving her with the writer. She didn't respond to his statement and instead moved to the driver's door. Castle moved for the passenger immediately.

"There's a note?" he asked, from the passenger seat. She nodded, sliding the coffee into the holder,

"There is a note," she confirmed, "I only know the general outline,"

"Which is?" he asked. She rolled her eyes as she started up the car,

"It's a note to the Precinct," she replied finally, "They say he deserved to die, that if we had been paying attention we would have known he needed to be dealt with. Seeing as Ryan apparently can't take a photograph of anything without flash that is about as much as I saw. Neither of the boys really saw it before Lanie called in a couple of favours and had it sent to be analysed for me,"

"Lanie removed evidence before you got there?" Castle sounded surprised. Beckett nodded mutely,

"She didn't know Ryan is terrible with a camera. We'll have it in a couple of hours. Until then we've got enough to deal with talking to his family and re-creating the timeline for him. It doesn't matter if his murderer left half of his home address on the bottom, a few things come first,"

He nodded and slid a wary glance over to her,

"Is – everything OK?" he asked carefully, "You seem a little tense,"

"I am tense," she muttered, from the volume he wasn't entirely sure he was supposed to hear. But he nodded anyway,

"Anything I can help with?"

"No. Right now I think we should just keep our focus on the case, Castle. I'll deal with my problems, you just – " she trailed off, realising there we only a few instances, mainly involving his daughter, that he'd really brought up his own problems, " – Ignore them,"

"You want me to _ignore_ the fact you're struggling with something?" he sounded sceptical, "You realise that when Esposito and Ryan figure out that something is wrong they're going to be blame me, right? It's almost in my best interests to help you deal,"

She didn't respond and he hesitated. But then he shifted in his seat to face her a little more fully,

"Is this about last –"

"Don't bring it up," she warned him, throwing him a glare, "It's over and done with. We don't talk about it. That's the whole point of _forgetting _Castle,"

"Alright, alright," he held up his hands peaceably, "I apologise for over-stepping. But it seems a little coincidental,"

She hesitated for a heartbeat.

"It has nothing to do with us sleeping together," she muttered, faint colour spreading into her cheeks as she broke her own rule set out less than a minute ago, "So forget it."

Castle eventually nodded and turned his gaze out of the window, realising like he did every once in a blue moon, that it would probably be safer for him to just sit in silence for this one. On the other side of the car Beckett, realising she had been in the wrong for the brief spat, glanced to him once before extending the olive branch.

"You're not even going to ask me about our victim?" she said finally. Castle turned back around so fast she felt the breeze.

"Absolutely. Who is it and how did they die?" he asked eagerly, "Because a note to me says messy; an apology for what's been done. So –"

"Daniel Weston is his name, and you're _completely_ wrong," she couldn't help her own amused smirk, "One of the cleanest murders Lanie has seen all year. Strangled with something thin, the body was dumped at our scene."

"So they kill him, they move him _and_ they leave a note saying you should have dealt with him?" Castle's brow furrowed, "That sounds – ominous,"

"I know," she didn't so overly happy, "Do-gooder gone bad,"

He chuckled at that, but still looked thoughtful,

"It does suggest that Mr Weston was into something he shouldn't have been," he offered, "Where are we headed anyway?"

"To see his wife. He still had his wallet on him so we got the address," She glanced to him. He looked even more unhappy at that news, but she knew better than to think it was about seeing the wife. Castle had followed her long enough to keep the sympathy at bay until spouses were cleared.

"They didn't even rob him? Jeez, whoever this is they have some serious issues,"

"I know," she kept her voice even, "But everyone trips up somewhere. We just have to find out where this guy did,"

He didn't have a response for that so he settled for nodding, focusing instead on the road ahead. Everyone trips up somewhere. He'd have to remember that one.

**So? What do you think? :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here is the third chapter. Hope you enjoy it. I realise its case-focused at the moment, but I PROMISE there are Caskett moments in the future. Once again, if you spot any mistakes feel free to point them out, I can only get better if you tell me :)**

**And again, response to this has been fantastic. It's really rewarding to know so many people are enjoying this. Thank you to all the reviewers I can't reply to, I just want to say I appreciate it :)  
**

**I don't own Castle.  
**

They had been ushered into a small but clean apartment. Their host, one Mrs Lucy Weston was holding up pretty well since they'd delivered the news, but Castle had seen his fair share of these. He knew as soon as the door closed behind them the tears would start. It was enough to make him knock her off of his mental list of suspects, even if he knew Beckett would wait until after they'd finished asking questions to even consider the option.

"Mrs Weston, can you think of anyone who would be angry with your husband?" Beckett was speaking levelly, in the same calm tones she used with all of the people related to their victims. If he hadn't known better he would have assumed it was just a mask; one to put them at their ease to help her get answers.

But he did know better. So when she used that tone he didn't think about what lay behind the words; good or bad. He just focused on the woman already shaking her head almost violently on the small armchair opposite them,

"Everyone liked Danny," she replied, her voice choked, "He was friends with everyone. It didn't matter what you did or where you came from, he'd talk to you and people just – they responded. They liked him. He just had one of those sorts of personalities . . ."

"Did he spend a lot of time out with people? Was he out last night socialising?" Castle leant forward a little in his own chair, "Anywhere he liked to socialise in particular?"

She folded her arms, curling about herself a little. But she did nod in response to his questions,

"He headed out about nine," she admitted. Castle nodded encouragingly,

"Where would he go?" Beckett asked the question, studying the woman's face carefully.

"He wasn't one for the big clubs," she replied a little hesitantly, "He went to the bars more often than not. He always said he liked to have a dance, but that he liked being able to talk to people as well," she wiped a hand across her eyes, evidently ensuring that no tears escaped during their conversation, "I know he went to a place called _WunderBar_. I don't know where it is but that's one he used to mention a lot,"

Castle fought the urge to grin at the name and glanced quickly down to his phone, locating the address on the map system,

"If you didn't go with him to the bar, who did he go with?" Beckett was speaking calmly, "Who would best know after you if he was in trouble? Maybe if he didn't want to worry you?"

The woman nodded, not looking at them as thought over her answers. Castle, once he looked away from his phone, laughter controlled, noticed the shaking of her hands. He swallowed guiltily and felt every trace of laughter vanish from his system.

"If anyone could tell you, it'd be Harry Walsh," she said finally, "They've been friends for years, since College. But I don't know if he'd know things Danny wouldn't tell me. He's my husband, we shared everything,"

"Do you have an address so we can go and talk to him?" Beckett smiled at her encouragingly, not addressing the second half of the remark and the woman returned it falteringly,

"I do. I'll get it for you," she rose from her seat and moved around them towards a small desk in the corner of the room. Castle tracked the movement, but he could see out of the corner of his eye that Beckett's focus was on the knotted fingers in her lap. He frowned a little, concern filling his features. He really did wish she'd tell him what was bothering her. If it was last night or the case that had led up to it – either way he could help. He'd been there for both after all.

Maybe if he asked Lanie to talk to her...

"Here," Lucy Weston found the address book she had evidently been looking for and she flipped through it before finding the one they needed. She scribbled it down and passed it into the waiting fingers of Kate Beckett, "Is that everything you need?"

"I think it is for now," agreed the Detective, rising, "If you can think of anything that can help us find who did this, don't hesitate to get in touch. We'll call if we have any more questions,"

"That's fine," she was biting her lower lip and Castle, even as she began walking them towards the door, quickened his pace a little. Because he could see what was coming.

Beckett seemed to sense it too because she was right behind him as he stepped out onto the corridor of the apartment. Almost as soon as it closed they heard the sound of weeping burst from the other side and Castle glanced back to it, a little uncertain about leaving a woman in so much pain alone. Beckett glanced to him and then shook her head,

"Let's go, Castle. Trust me; she won't want you there," while there was understanding in her voice, most of it was for the woman they had just left and for a moment they both remained on the landing, stood too close and with only the noise of tears to interrupt the stillness.

But finally he nodded. She offered a crooked smile at the gesture before finally beginning past him, letting her hand brush past his as she did so. He couldn't help the faint smile at the relatively small attempt at comfort, Beckett's actions spoke louder than words after all. But it disappeared when his eyes slid back to the door. Beckett might be feeling more comfortable with him as the day wore on, but Lucy Weston wouldn't be at her ease until long after they'd caught her husband's killer.

Finally he turned away.

On the staircase she phoned Ryan and he listened to her relay instructions as he walked, letting the words flow over him as they headed out onto the street. It wasn't a long phone call by any stretch of the imagination and it was over almost as soon as she stepped out into the sunlight of the day.

"Alright," she slid her phone back into her pocket, "Let's get back to the Precinct, Esposito thinks he's got something,"

"Oh really?" he looked interested, "Because I didn't pick that up. You don't think it's anything?"

"I don't know. I was speaking to Ryan and he didn't tell me," she glanced to him, "And what do you mean you didn't pick it up?"

"Well you always sound a little – you know, eager when you hear something new about a case,"

Seeing her gaze narrow he backtracked,

"Eager may be the wrong word. How about _determined_ to see justice prevail?" he offered,

"How about we stop with the word games and get in the car?" she suggested, "At some point I am going to have to make a report to Montgomery about the case and I would just _love_ to have something to tell him other than our victim used to go out to drink a lot,"

"We will," he assured her as he caught hold of the door handle on his side, "We've got names, we've got places. We'll find out what happened, and then I'll blow your taste buds sky high and –"

"Oh _please_," she rolled her eyes as she settled into her seat. He slid in next to her, "You _hope_ you can. Because otherwise you're just going to miss out on anything interesting for the next week –"

"I see you're already planning on abusing your winnings," he observed as he buckled himself in. She grinned,

"If you mean you're going to spend most of next week sat in the car while I go talk to people and see my crime scenes... yes. I might even pick you up every morning just so I can tell you to stay put,"

He pulled a face,

"That, Detective, is needlessly cruel,"

"Well gee, Castle. That's part of what makes it so fun," as she pulled out into traffic again she offered him a grin, "Kind of like how I'll be subjected to your company if you win, whilst being fed whatever meals you decide to make,"

"I never said I would be the one making them," he pointed out idly, "If I win, I might even subject you to dinner at one of our city's premier restaurants,"

"No," she shook her head immediately, "I'm not getting snapped on camera,"

He rolled his eyes,

"I write books. The only time I _ever_ get snapped by the press is when Gina and Paula have thrust me into the publicity recently,"

"Oh, you mean like all the publicity for the film recently?" she shot him a glare, "Get real, Castle. There is _no way_ I'm letting that happen. Bet or no,"

"You worry too much," he sighed, "But alright. No big flash restaurants. Before we continue, is there anything you're allergic to? So I can keep make sure not to put it in anything I might make?"

"You are _way_ too confident,"

"And you are far too dismissive of my cooking skills," he replied airily, "But...this is an argument for another time. Did they mention anything about the note?"

"No. But if we're _really _lucky, it might be on my desk by the time we get back," she replied, focusing her attention on the traffic ahead of them. He slid a glance across to her when he knew it was safe to do so, a small smile appearing on his face.

It might have only been for two minutes, but it had been the first taste of normalcy all day. And when that normalcy happened to coincide with mention of extra time with Kate Beckett. Well, all was right with his world.

"Yo, Beckett,"

Almost as soon as they entered from the elevator into the Bullpen they were hailed, and both of them looked to see Esposito moving to join them, holding a file in his hands, "Got a couple of things," he flashed her a quick grin, "Hey Castle. No coffee this time?"

"Esposito –" Beckett spoke warningly and he turned back to her, smile disappearing,

"First off, we ran the tape. We've got video of _someone_ but it's nowhere near clear enough to give us anything than a possible height and build for whoever this is. It gives us a time of arrival at the scene of 2:16, it's up on the murder board," his tone was almost apologetic at that, "But something else we did find –"

"The note got sent up, right?" guessed Castle was a grin. Esposito shot him a glare, so did Beckett. Hers was stronger,

"Will you _stop_ with the note? Esposito, you find something with the financials already?" Beckett sounded annoyed again, but her focus was on the folder in the second Detective's hands. Castle tucked his hands into his pockets a little sulkily, reminding the other pair once again, why he bore the reputation of acting like a nine year old.

"Yep. Captain got us a quick turnabout with the judge and there is definitely something interesting in them. Regular withdrawals of two grand, regular deposits of five. Weston was making money cash in hand somehow. Didn't even try to hide it," he explained, flipping open the file to show them the highlighted section of numbers, "And we've not found where he worked either, you guys have any luck with that?"

"Nope," Castle shook his head, "No job,"

Beckett nodded absently in agreement to his statement, still scanning the financials carefully,

"Alright. Did you check the name the wife gave us?"

"Yep. Harry Walsh, got a couple of charges involving drugs, mostly selling and possession. We had a car swing by to pick him up but he isn't there. They're sitting outside until he gets back to bring him in. Figured with the money trail and all you'd want him brought in,"

"Good call," she nodded, "Anything else?"

"Oh yes," he grinned at her, "Your security camera might not have picked up a shot of our killer, but there was one very nice shot of someone very definitely watching them work,"

"Wait, there's a witness?" Castle looked stunned, "And they didn't call the police?"

"I'm getting the impression they didn't know what to do," replied Esposito, "We're about to head back out with a photo, see if anyone about the area knows who it is. Yet again, I can say the picture is on the murder board."

He hiked a thumb back at the two shadowy images in the top right of the board. She moved to view them and Castle would have followed, but Esposito caught his arm,

"Is she OK?" he spoke softly, but with evident concern he would never show the lead Detective. Castle shrugged, not removing his eyes from Beckett until he felt Esposito tighten his grip minutely to pull full attention to the conversation.

"She's not talking," he murmured in explanation, "I'm beginning to get the impression she really wants this one though,"

"That doesn't surprise me," Esposito let the hand on his arm drop, "I think the Captain guessed she would too, seeing as he helped with the Judge. Keep an eye on her. And you know where we are if you need us,"

"I know," Castle offered the second man a grin, "Is that concern all for Beckett or are you using it as an excuse to let your caring for _moi_ to finally cross into our day-to-day lives?"

"Don't screw it up," Esposito shot him a warning look before moving back to his desk. Castle crossed to join Beckett, taking his first views of the crime scene and the small amount of information they had on their victim in the process. It _really _wasn't much –

"You going to tell me what that was about?" she asked quietly, not removing her eyes from the board. He shrugged, leaning back against the desk behind him,

"Nothing. Wanted to arrange a poker game for later on in the month. We boys must have our time away from you women folk," he offered her a crooked grin, "That doesn't mean we won't arrange one for you to join us for, your money is _just_ as tasty as Ryan's,"

She didn't take the bait.

Sensing the return to pursuit of justice he let his smile fade and turned his attention to the video shot of their killer. Esposito was right. The image quality was poor, but either he or Ryan had figured out a rough height and weight for him, the build alone made it obvious it was a man. Ryan had written the information down; he could tell just from the script that it hadn't been the senior of the two partners, for which he was hugely grateful. Esposito made chicken scratch look legible.

"5'10'' and 190lbs," Castle didn't sound overly happy, "So it could be anyone,"

"It's pretty average," she agreed, "But it's a clearer shot of the witness,"

And it was. A young man, thinner than their killer with light hair was stood _just_ in the bottom right corner of the security camera's feed. He looked to be dressed in clubbing gear, and the expression which had been caught on his face was one of horrified understanding. Beckett tore her eyes away and glanced to him,

"I'm going to grab a coffee," her voice was quiet, "You want one?"

He nodded and perched himself a little more comfortably on the desk as she wandered away. He wasn't seeing anything, but it was still early on. They hadn't even had the reports from Lanie. Once they came in they'd have more to go on. He hoped.

It was with that thought in mind that he noted the envelope making its way towards him and he offered the man carrying it a wide grin. Because that could only mean one thing.

The note had finally arrived.

**Love it? Hate it? Are you intensely curious what the note is? Or just hoping that Beckett is going to carry on mellowing as it continues? :D **

**Hope you enjoyed it! **


	4. Chapter 4

**And...this is chapter four. I apologise for the one small spacing issue which appeared in the last chapter, which probably left you (it certainly did me) wondering exactly how Esposito had managed to appear in a moving vehicle WITH relevant case information no less. Would love to go and fix it, but right now it's enough of an achievement I can even post it so...yeah :D **

**I won't keep you long with this, just to confess that after the next chapter there might be a - small gap - between posts. The surge of bravado which allowed me to post this in the first place was badly-timed, I have an essay due. Yes, I am an idiot. Feel free to berate me. **

**Feedback is hugely appreciated, your response is incredible... still in a state of shock so many of you are willing to read it :) and on that note I'll let you get on with it. Just a very big THANK YOU to you all; especially those among you who make their presence known.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Castle**

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Although he had wanted to open it immediately, he knew she might actually follow through on one of her frequent threats to shoot him if he did actually begin interfering with evidence. So he waited. He fidgeted like a crazy person, but he never touched it. Instead he listened to the sounds of the espresso machine in the next room, trying to gauge exactly how long it was going to take her to get back to her desk. The envelope had arrived at roughly four minutes past eleven. Since then ... roughly thirty seconds had passed. No, wait, make that forty-six.

He heard a low laugh from Ryan as he walked back to his own desk,

"Hey Castle, you've got a little bit of drool, just there," the man touched a finger to his face and the writer shot him a bored expression. But when he'd walked past him he did run a hand across his face. Just to make sure.

"Nice work with the photo-taking earlier by the way, I forgot to congratulate you," he called the words after the younger man, craning his head to see the reaction. The grimace he saw was reward enough and he smirked before turning his attention back to the tantalising envelope on the desk before him.

God, did it always take him that long to make coffee?

He debated over the action for a minute or so before finally grabbing up the envelope and beginning for the Break Room. Beckett was still working with the variety of levers, buttons and cups which made up the caffeinated masterpiece and he crossed to her holding before him,

"Beckett, the note is here,"

"Oh," she glanced to it, "Great. I'll be right there,"

"Can't I just open it and read it out to you?"

"Castle, I'm not a two year old, and it's not just because I'm trying to torture you," she sounded exasperated, "Three minutes will not kill you,"

"Not unless it's a bomb threat," he grumbled, letting his hopeful expression drop,

"Don't even _joke _about it. Like we need something like that going on as well," Beckett shot him a look when she overheard the remark.

"Well if you let me _open it_ –"

"Esposito!" she barked out the single word in evident impatience and it didn't take long for the man to appear looking a little wary. He looked as though he was about to leave for the crime scene, as he had said he was doing brief minutes ago.

"Everything OK?"

"Yes,"

"No," the two words came out at the same time with the same irritated tone. His eyebrows rose,

"Me and Ryan were just headed back out to the crime scene, so I'm gonna let you two finish up here and –"

"Just open the goddamn envelope for me. If the Captain finds out I let _Castle_ in on the chain of evidence, he'll chew me out," Beckett jammed one of the buttons on the machine with a determined set to her mouth, attempting to free some of its liquid contents, "Get copies so he can read it and quit bugging me,"

Esposito shot the writer a pointed look which was clearly supposed to remind him of their earlier conversation and yanked the envelope from his now motionless fingers,

"On it,"

Castle watched him go incredulously, then he turned back to Beckett,

"Did that seriously just happen? We had the note and you sent it away _again_?"

"You're getting your hopes up about the note. It is not going to give us a name and address. We have real work to do still," she spoke with an irritated note to her voice,

"Yes, but – this is a _voluntary_ look into the mind of someone who has committed _premeditated murder_," he returned as she finally pulled a mug of hot, delicious smelling coffee from the depths of the machine.

"You sit in on interviews all of the time, Castle. What's so special about someone who just wrote it down?"

"It's different," he returned, "There's a different kind of freedom in writing something down than there is to speaking it. _Especially_ when you're sat in cuffs in a police interview room,"

She began back towards her desk and arrived at roughly the same time Esposito did with copies in hand. He handed them over with a small smirk and Beckett offered a brief nod of thanks before sinking down into her chair for the first time that day. Castle all but threw himself into the one beside her desk before reaching for the copied note. Final number on the clock; nine minutes and eight seconds past eleven.

Beckett watched his eyes drop to scan the page with a smirk before letting her eyes drop to the one she still held. The smirk faded quickly as she read. Even Castle brow began to furrow,

"This is –" he leant over her desk a little with the letter, "I don't know what this is,"

"This is trouble," she muttered, "I'm going to talk to Montgomery, I'll be back,"

"Right," he nodded. He let his attention follow her to the office door of the Captain but as it closed behind her it went straight back to the words on the page.

_To the Detectives of New York's 12__th__ Precinct._

_I hope this day finds you well. If you have found my note you have found Daniel Weston. I have no doubts you wonder why he is dead, why I killed him. It is precisely for that wonderment that I had have to do this deed. You have not spotted him or what he is doing to the city that we all love so very much. You do not see the suffering and crime you have sworn to end multiply and hurt so many people. You have all been distracted for far too long._

_But I am not distracted. I saw. I saw every day what he did. What they did. And now, as I write this note, I know that I do not regret my actions. I reached my breaking point and this is the result. You should have dealt with him and his friends long before I had to. _

_But I suppose we are a community; a shared network of friends and family. We share common goals and so I removed him from our streets; a goal we all shared in one way or another. It was an action for the greater good, I hope you understand._

_Your friend._

He read the words slowly, lips moving as he processed them. Only once he'd read through for the third time did he raise his head.

The door to Montgomery's office was still closed. He couldn't even see the form of Beckett through the distorted glass.

He turned the other way to see Ryan and Esposito still reading, evidently their final act before leaving, or so he hoped for their sakes. Castle had no doubt that if Beckett returned to find them still here they'd be buried in paperwork a mile high. Thoughts of Beckett aside, he could see that their mouths were set in a grim line and he could tell that it was concerning them as much as it had him. As much as it had Beckett.

"I always hate the wackos," Esposito finally pushed the letter onto his desk and rose, heading for the Elevator, "You never know what's going to come next, you know?"

Ryan grunted his agreement and then began after him, laying his own copy of the letter on his desk. Castle let out a breath and took his own copy to pin to the white board. Beckett didn't reappear until well after the elevator chime had signalled the boys' departure. And even when she did, she didn't mention what had been said. All she did was grab her jacket.

"Let's go Castle," he fell into step immediately behind her, snagging Esposito's copy of the letter as he passed the desk.

"Road trip?" he looked interested and she nodded,

"Yeah. We still need to check out Danny Weston's favourite bar," she reminded him, sliding into her jacket and jabbing the call button for the elevator once she'd finished. Castle smirked,

"Right. Wunderbar," he didn't bother to hide his amusement this time, "You know that means 'wonderful' in German right?"

"Is it really that much of an issue?" she stepped through the doors when they slid open and he shrugged as he joined her,

"I like it," the doors closed, "You going to tell me what you talked to Montgomery about?"

"Nope,"

* * *

When they finally arrived at the bar, she almost wished she had already won the bet just so she could make him wait for her outside. Because one look at his face told her he was going to be complaining for the entire time they were in there.

Because there was nothing wonderful about it. It looked run-down and tired and Castle wrinkled his nose the instant they stepped out onto the pavement before it. No-one on the street about them was even looking to it.

"Lovely," he pushed his hands into his pockets, "So this is the Wunderbar. Considering all of the connotations of the name, I have to admit I was expecting a little more,"

"Well Danny Weston liked it enough," Beckett slammed the door of the Crown Vic closed and offered a grin, "Maybe the inside will surprise you,"

"The man was best friends with a proven drug dealer. My hopes are not high,"

In all honesty, neither were hers. But she'd learned the hard way that letting him know she agreed was a bad idea; the whining would start up again ten-fold. Instead she moved onto the subject of Walsh,

"I still have questions about that," she admitted as she crossed to the door, "Once we talk to Walsh we should know a _lot_ more about what might have gotten him killed,

"_If_, you mean," he grumbled, "You know what I want to know? What exactly you _friend _from the note meant. How can he think you're no longer aware of the levels of crime in the city? You spend each and every day fighting it. Is that what's distracting you? Your jobs?" he glanced across to her, "Oh come on Beckett, you're not _at all_ worried

She pushed open the door, choosing not to answer and they stepped into the bar.

Well, it definitely wasn't an improvement on the exterior. As they stepped in, it was to find their shoes sticking to the wooden floor; despite the definite evidence which told them this was _not _a hotspot of activity at any time of the day or night. The few framed pictures on the wall were all slipping in their frames and behind her Castle sneezed,

"You know, when Lucy Weston said he _socialised_, I was kind of expecting people," he mumbled, "There have to be three guys here. _Including_ the bartender –" he sneezed again and she grimaced, stepping away from him,

"Sorry," he mumbled, "I don't know why I'm –" he sneezed for a third time and she threw a glance over her shoulder. He was wiping watering eyes and before she could say anything, a third voice joined them,

"Can I help you?" the words were issued by the bartender and she nodded briefly, turning away from the sneezing man to join him at the bar.

Castle wiped his eyes on his sleeve and surveyed the room warily. The only thing he knew that could make him sneeze with quite that velocity was a cat. There wasn't evidence of one in view though and he tried to ignore the desperate desire to sneeze for god-alone-knew-what-time and looked towards the bartender.

"I was told one of your regulars was a man named Daniel Weston," she spoke easily, showing her badge when she stopped at the bar. She slid his picture across the tacky surface of the bar with some difficulty, before watching the man's reactions as he picked up the photo,

"Yeah, that's right," he nodded, "Comes in every couple of nights. What of it? People like a local,"

"Was he here last night?"

"Sure. Got here about quarter past nine, was out of the door about an hour later. Only ever has one or two with his friend,"

"You know the name of his friend?"

"Sure. Harry," he surrendered the information easily enough, though Castle still remained at a wary distance from him. When he'd turned to see the man behind the bar, he was the first to admit it wasn't a figure he'd been expecting. If Castle had had to choose a backdrop for him, it would have been the weights room of a gym. Or a prison cell. _Maybe some combination of the two would be best –_

"Is Harry a regular too?" Beckett took the photo back and the hulk on the other side nodded. both ignored the bout or renewed sneezing from the writer behind her.

"Sure. He's in every day for one or two. If you come back around nine, he should be here," his tone was agreeable,

"Thanks, I might do that," she nodded to him, "Did Danny seem anxious or upset about anything?"

"No. The man was fine. He sat down, he had a couple of beers, he got up and left. Nothing out of the ordinary," the man shrugged and Beckett hesitated for one instant. But then she nodded,

"Thanks,"

"No problem, Detective. You need anything else, you come on back. Ask for Pete. Someone'll fetch me for ya," he tapped his fingers against the surface of the bar, "You pair have a good day,"

"Thanks," she nodded to him before beginning her way back to the door. Castle sneezed only twice more before he stepped out onto the street.

"Oh thank God," he mumbled, "There's a cat somewhere in there, I swear,"

"You're allergic to cats?" she looked surprised and he shrugged, still not looking too happy,

"Only mildly," he muttered, "But I think Pete needs to air out his bar a little,"

She laughed at the statement as she rounded the car. In the few instances her back was turned, Castle looked immensely pleased with himself. Then he sneezed again.

"If you're going to be doing that all day, there is _no way_ you are coming back to the Precinct with me," her tone was one of warning. He looked immediately pained,

"But we haven't gone to see Lanie yet! I promised I'd see her later," he protested. She rolled her eyes,

"Out of everything you could have said, that's what you're going for?" she asked sceptically, "You _promised_ you'd seen Lanie later?"

"Keeping your word is important,"

"So next time you promise to stay in the car –"

"I said it was important. I didn't say it was the be-all and end-all," he grinned at her. Then he glanced to his watch,

"You know it's nearly lunch-time?"

"I know,"

"We could go grab some food and then head back to the Precinct," he offered, "My treat,"

"I thought you were buying in pizza later on?"

"The secret to healthy eating is _regular _eating," his tone became mildly lecturing, then he added a rueful grin. "Added to which, going to buy it should give me time to stop sneezing,"

She hesitated for one final moment but then nodded,

"Fine." through the windscreen she spied the slip of paper he'd been analysing since he'd gotten it, "On the sole condition you do not breathe a _word_ about the note for the entire time we're eating,"

He grinned,

"Scout's honour," he made the correct salute...just with the wrong hand. She fought the urge to throw something at him.

"Just get in the car,"

**So there is a mention of food? I _promise_ I will get around to the bet. But the case has just sort of taken over. I'm _sorry_! But I promise promise _promise_ there is eating, and Castle/Beckett moments coming soon... although yes, I am going to drag it out. For many reasons. :D  
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	5. Chapter 5

**Here is the next chapter! I hope you all enjoy it! **

**Please tell me if there are any mistakes/things that don't make sense and I'll try and get it sorted. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Castle.  
**

The rest of their day turned into a waiting game. Esposito and Ryan had returned empty-handed, the car stationed outside of Harry Walsh's apartment hadn't seen hide nor hair of the man, and even in the latter stages of the evening, Pete's assurances that he would appear at Wunderbar proved false. Harry Walsh was nowhere to be seen.

To make matter worse, their trip down to Lanie's lab, no matter the chances for socialising that Castle had been so overjoyed about, gave them no real leads. Their victim had been attacked from behind, with surprise used to get the murder weapon about his throat. He hadn't been able to get a clear shot at them with his fists and they hadn't needed to do anything but hold onto the wire. There was no damage to the body except the throat, and that damage was _all_ perpetrated by the murder itself.

Even the note had given no results. No finger prints, no fibres – the murderer might as well have written it in a goddamn _clean room_ –

The cleanest murder of the goddamn year, and she ended up with it.

Kate Beckett let out a sigh and let herself slump back into her chair, the beginnings of a headache beginning to pulsate somewhere behind her eyes. The room about her had emptied at the usual time, and the last of the die-hard over-timers had left about twenty minutes ago, with a shouted farewell to her. She'd sent Ryan and Esposito home. With nothing to go on there was no point their being in the Precinct. Better they were at home, relaxing and just getting away from their jobs for however short a time. Every fibre of her being wanted her to do the same thing. But it didn't matter where she was. With the case the only thing she was willing to let occupy her mind, she could be at the office or at home and it would still plague her. At least at her desk she could get the paperwork from their last case up-to-date.

She heard the elevator doors slide open and raised herself a little more stoically in her chair. Whoever it was turned right out of the elevators and their footsteps faded. She wiped a tired hand across her face and turned her eyes back to the file. The dull thump of something being bought from a vending machine made her grimace. A second thump followed soon after and she glanced in the general direction of the vending machines which didn't do much, seeing as they were on the other side of a solid wall. Then, just as she expected, Richard Castle rounded the doorway. Who else was it going to be coming _into_ the precinct at this time of night?

"Good evening," he offered a crooked grin and moved to sink down into his usual seat. He was carrying one plastic bag and two bottles of water; evidently his most recent purchase.

"What are you doing here?" she sighed the words out, "You went home hours ago, and we already ate, Castle,"

"We did," he agreed, "Hours ago. And the regular eating thing just – keeps cropping up, almost regularly you could say," he began pulling out the contents of the bag, "And you're still here, reason enough for me to come back,"

The boxes he deposited on the table all bore the name of her favourite Chinese take-out and she cracked one open with only the briefest of pauses. The smell alone was enough to make her stomach growl and he chuckled, passing her a set of chopsticks.

"I get paid to be here," she pointed out. He nodded,

"Part of my job involves shadowing you," he reasoned, "So in the bare essence of the argument, I'm getting paid to be here too. You're on the job, I shadow you on the job, ergo...work, _ergo_... wage,"

She shook her head slowly at the twisted logic and he smiled, but there was less humour than usual,

"If that fails to convince you, then look at it this way. My mother finally moved into her own apartment a scant few weeks before Alexis headed off to college on the other side of the country. I have gone from sharing an apartment with two lovely but fairly loud females, to rattling around trying to create my own noise in a suddenly overly large apartment; which in _no way _measures up to what there used to be,"

She smiled faintly at that and he shrugged at the hint of amusement in her expression, shuffling back so he was lounged more comfortably in the chair,

"I'll get used to it, but – not right now,"

"It's sort of a sad statement where sitting at my desk is the preferred evening for both of us," she murmured the words quietly as she snapped the chopsticks apart and picked up the carton of sweet and sour, she _was_ hungry and it'd just get eaten by the boys tomorrow if she didn't eat it.

Castle smirked at that,

"I never said this is what I'd _prefer_ to be doing," the tone of the words was suggestive and her eyes flickered to him immediately. But his focus was on his own meal, carefully avoiding eye contact and his body language all but daring her to do something about it verbally.

She didn't.

"So. Care to share what it is that has you chained to your desk this evening?" he asked lightly, after giving her plentiful time in which time respond, "Metaphorically of course,"

"You didn't notice we're investigating a murder?" she asked.

"A murder that right now, we have no leads on," he nodded, "There are better uses for your time than to sit here dwelling on it. And you are nothing but decisive when it comes to use of your time. So tell me. Maybe I can help," he popped a piece of chicken into his mouth and regarded her with slightly raised eyebrows.

"Honestly?"

_What was it about Rick Castle that suddenly had her lowering her defences whenever he gave the word?_

"Honestly," he agreed, "Can't help if you make it up, Kate," off her look he corrected himself, "Beckett,"

She hesitated and looked down into her take-out, poking through it idly with her chopsticks.

"It's the last case," she admitted, "And this one. We seem to be on a bit of a losing streak. I just – I don't want to let another one pan out like the last one did and so far we're running into brick wall after brick wall –" she allowed the frustration she'd been feeling all day to creep into her tone; the flood-gates once open difficult to close.

"Kate," Castle cut across her firmly, putting his food aside and leaning forward, "It is not going to happen like last time. We'll get this guy. We still have Walsh. As soon as we find him we're going to have a way to track this bastard down. And the witness. So we had one day when we couldn't find him. He might pick up the nerve to come and see us. You don't know what's going to happen,"

"You wanted to know what I was thinking," she offered a wan smile. Castle didn't return it,

"We can't win every single one, Kate." His voice was sincere, "But that doesn't mean we screwed up. What happened wasn't your fault. We figured it out. It was just –"

"Too late," she spoke woodenly.

Neither of them spoke as they processed the words and Kate made as if to lay aside her meal. But Castle caught her hands, stopping her before she could,

"Eat something," he spoke firmly, "You'll be no good to anyone if you don't eat."

She had frozen as he caught her hands and in the moments he kept them there the heat from his skin seared through her own like fire. Much like it had the previous night.

_God, had it only been a day ago?_

He saw her freeze and released her, looking almost guilty,

"I'm sorry," he muttered, "I wasn't pushing. I just – you need to take care of yourself Beckett," his voice was a little rougher than usual and he picked up his own food, turning back to it with gusto. She didn't put the food on the desk, nor did her gaze move from him for a few moments; her expression was curious.

But he wouldn't meet it. Instead he ate through the meal he'd brought. She finally followed suit and they ate in silence for the entirety.

But once he'd taken a mouthful of water and thrown the rubbish into the bin, he returned to the desk,

"Let's go," he nodded towards the elevator, "It's nearly midnight. If ever there was a time to go home, it would be now,"

She hesitated, trying to get a read of him and he smiled faintly, noting exactly what she doing and what was keeping her in the desk chair.

"I did mean _separate_ homes. You to your bed, me to mine. I'll keep my word, Beckett." he spoke easily, but the friendly expression didn't meet his eyes. Instead, they looked tired, defeated.

"I didn't think otherwise," she assured him, slowly rising from her chair in agreement to his suggestion, "You want a ride?"

He shook his head,

"I'll get a cab," he replied calmly, "I'm out of your way and it'll no doubt be an early morning for you. You go ahead,"

She looked confused, he'd _never _turned down a lift before.

"I don't mind, Castle. Really," her voice was as level as his own, neither wanting to upset the balance they'd managed to strike. He hesitated, but finally nodded.

"Thank you," the smile this time was genuine and she returned it, digging into her pocket for her keys.

* * *

Once Beckett had dropped him off outside of his building, he'd once again entered into the stillness of an apartment too large for him alone. He flicked some of the lights on before crossing over towards his office. His laptop was perched, where he had left it, in the middle of his desk and he only flicked on the lights then as an after-thought as he moved to sink down into his office chair. In what had become a routine in and of itself he checked his email and he was not entirely surprised, but still entirely disappointed, to find that Alexis hadn't sent a message along. But still, at least she phoned. When he'd been at college it would sometimes be weeks before he'd let his mother know he was still alive.

Considering that, maybe he owed her a box of chocolates...

He sighed and pushed himself out of the chair, restless and not entirely sure how to deal with it. He knew the problem and hell he even _understood_ the problem. But there was a big gap between understanding and solving.

Especially when it involved Kate Beckett. Attempting to help solve her problems when she didn't want you to was something akin to trying to defuse a nuclear warhead whilst wearing oven gloves. It wasn't advisable, and most people, like Esposito, Ryan and Lanie, were doing the sensible thing and giving her space. Like Esposito had said; they were there if needed.

He couldn't work like that. He'd needed to show her he was right there with her. Just like he had been on their last case. _They_ had solved it too late, not she. They worked as a unit. But how did you explain to a person who took everything on their shoulders alone, that some of the burden belonged to others?

He scrubbed a hand across his face and reached absently for the remote to the music system in the corner. He didn't set it loud, just enough to fill some small part of the silence. Then he reached awkwardly for a book on one of the higher shelves of his collection. He had to take his own advice and turn his mind off for a few hours.

Luckily, Kate Beckett had helped with that. Because they might have been struggling to catch their killer, but he did owe her dinner.

And he needed to find something with the wow factor. Hence the cook book, which wasn't his (OK maybe it was). But he had to find something, or he was going to be stuck in the car for the foreseeable future, and Kate Beckett was going have a chance to get away from the issue that was _them_. Literally and figuratively. He'd given her a reprieve earlier, but he had no intention of letting whatever they were fade back into nothing. Hence the cookbook.

But even when he spread open the pages of the book, he slid the piece of paper with the photocopied note out onto the coffee table to glance at when he wanted to. Because for all everyone seemed to think it documented the ravings of a lunatic. He just got the feeling there was something more to it. Their guy was trying to tell them something and he intended to figure out exactly what that was.

* * *

Kate Beckett's apartment had the air of abandonment to it when she eventually stepped across the threshold. Just like it had earlier that morning. But, just like earlier that morning, she didn't care. She slipped out of her jacket and shoes and headed for the kitchen, intent on one of the bottles of wine in the rack there. The only light she had turned on was the one above her dining nook, but it was enough to see by as she moved about the room.

One glass of wine poured later and she was grabbing up the stack of mail she'd gathered onto her kitchen counter and hitting the answering machine of her home line. Two messages.

She didn't need two guesses to know who they would be from and even as she sank down at her dining room table, Josh's hesitant voice was sounding in her apartment. He wanted to talk. Second message; could she please call?

_Could_ she call? Yes, she could. Would she? Not as likely. She'd ended it for a reason and dragging it out would just make it all the more painful. It wasn't like she didn't care about him, he just hadn't been there when she needed him. And given the infrequency of _that_ –

It hadn't boded well for the future. Coupled with a general lack of ever seeing him... it had been time to move on.

She flicked through the mail absently, not paying all that much interest as she did so. Bill, bill, catalogue, bill, fantastic. She pushed it away and took a mouthful of wine, her attention moving to the surface of the table instead, letting her eyes zone out at roughly the same time she gave her mind free rein.

There was no surprise when it immediately turned back to Castle. Just like it had been trying to all day.

He'd done better than she had expected with the whole forgetting thing, even though he very obviously hadn't. He hadn't made suggestive comments with Esposito and Ryan in the vicinity, nor had he leered or done anything which might have piqued their friends' curiosity. And thank God he'd done the same when they were in the vicinity of Lanie. Her best friend had all the senses of a bloodhound when it came to the aspects of her personal life she wasn't keen to share.

But maybe they hadn't noticed it because it hadn't been _that _awkward. Sure Castle had pushed a little, but he always did that. They'd been able to talk about the case, he'd wound her up like only he could, and in his own way he'd help keep her on an even keel. Even with the case from hell and its predecessor weighing heavily on her.

God, the case. She was exhausted just thinking about the lack of anything even slightly useful.

What made it worse was, when she'd voiced her concerns about what the letter might indicate, the Captain had calmly reassured her that she would be able to handle it, and the team would be right behind her. He hadn't listened. He'd assumed it was just the knock she had taken to her confidence that was speaking.

Maybe it was. So she'd taken his advice and shelved the letter. She'd put her focus onto other things.

She sighed and pulled out her phone, scrolling through until she found Castle's number. Her thumb poised over the call button for one brief moment, but then she decided against it. Whatever he was doing, be it sleeping or writing, was going to be a hell of a lot more interesting to him than playing Agony Aunt to a doubting Detective. She'd see him tomorrow, at work. That had to be enough.

**That's the end of Chapter 5! Like I said, it's going to be a little while before I update again but I'll try to write my essay as quick as possible. Sorry again. And thank you for reading! :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**I feel at this moment you all deserve some grovelling and apologising for leaving this hanging for longer than I really want to think about. so... I'M REALLY REALLY REALLY SORRY! Apparently Essays take work. Who knew?  
**

**As it stands, I'm in the final run of my last year, with another essay, a dissertation and an exam which are going to consume me utterly, possibly even with added hell fire. I will finish this. It may take me a heck of a long time, but the full story will be posted. But lets just say... updates are going to be sporadic. So please bear with me.**

**Anyway...if you can remember what this is even about, I hope this is a good next chapter. If you can't remember I don't blame you, but ... read it anyway? Maybe? Please? :)**

**And...no. I don't own Castle.  
**

The Precinct was its usual thriving self when he reached it the next morning and he weaved his way through the bustle of humanity on the ground floor before stepping into the relative peace of the elevator. Here there were only three people with him, and none of them seemed intent on knocking the coffees out of his hands. The moment to relax was appreciated, and then he was stepping out behind a Detective he vaguely recognised. They moved across his path, making him stop quickly to avoid spilling the coffee. He spared one glare before continuing across to where Beckett was on the phone. The intensity of her stance and tone made him grin as he placed her coffee onto the desk before her. That could only mean one thing. They had something. Not the worst start he'd ever had to a morning.

She hung up before he could really catch what the conversation was about and offered him a wide grin,

"Thanks," she picked up the coffee, "You have no idea how much I've been looking forward to this,"

He chuckled,

"Not a problem. What's going on?"

"We've got something new to go on," she replied before she took a sip, "And before you even _try_, it isn't to do with the note,"

"I am not obsessed with it," he defended, "I wasn't even going to bring it up,"

"It's the only thing you've been talking about since we even found it. You so would have," she surveyed him. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but somewhere between his vocal chords and his brain, the cleverly constructed and witty comeback fell by the wayside. So he closed it again.

"So what is it?" he asked instead. Beckett smirked,

"You'll never guess who tried to creep back into his apartment less than an hour ago,"

"I want to say Daniel Weston for the very small fact that I've always wanted to see a zombie." he offered her a grin and she rolled her eyes at him,

"Harry Walsh. Uniforms picked him up and he's on his way back as we speak. He tried to run, so now we can hold onto him for a little while,"

"Oh, even better. An interview about murder, drugs _and _attempted escape from police. You just made my day Detective," the enthusiasm in his voice wasn't all feigned and the grin that appeared, however briefly, on her face was real.

"You never get tired of this, do you?"

"Not at all," he returned, "So how long until he gets here?"

"Actually – I'm surprised you beat him," she replied. He frowned,

"So who were you on the phone with just then?"

"What made you think that had anything to do with the case?" she returned. The expression on her face was one of mild amusement and he felt a small smile stretching his lips as he looked at her.

"The whole –" he broke off as he remembered the trouble he'd gotten into last time he'd mentioned her reaction to case-breaking information and shrugged,

" – you get a phone call and then suddenly tell me about a development thing," he finished lamely. Then his eyes widened in realisation, "Which is even _worse_. You got an earlier phone call to tell you they got Walsh and you didn't _call me_?" there was an injured quality to his words then and she shrugged, turning to her desk,

"I knew you were going to get here sooner or later. Figured if I told you before you started out then I wouldn't get coffee," she raised the drink in brief salute, "I would have waited before I talked to him,"

"Yeah. I'm sure," he grumbled, "Where are the boys?"

"Ryan went to speak to a friend in Vice. They've dealt with Walsh before so it might turn over something interesting and Esposito, lucky person that he is, is still trying to figure out who our witness is,"

"Really?" Castle's eyebrows rose, "How? I thought no-one recognised him,"

"No-one did. But seeing as there aren't any major clubs in the area, Esposito figured a taxi might have dropped him in the vicinity. He's talking to the taxi companies,"

Castle looked impressed,

"That is – dedication,"

"Well he's the only lead we have if Walsh doesn't give us anything," she returned, "Which I hope to God he does. Because although a witness is _good_- he was pretty far away, at night, and possibly intoxicated,"

"You really are a pessimist," Castle looked awed as he turned to her, "You have a suspect being brought in, you've got a witness potentially being tracked down, and you're not even remotely happy with how your day is turning out? That's almost impressive in its negativity,"

"I'm a realist," she countered, "And who said I wasn't happy with my day? I have coffee and a drug dealer to intimidate. That's pretty good for before noon,"

"The coffee is a given before noon,"

"Only when you're interested," she argued lightly, "If we've got a dull case, you don't even appear before noon,"

"I'm _always_ interested," the rapid-fire exchange ended on that note, with Castle offering her a sideways glance. This time Beckett didn't shoot the slyly inserted insinuation down in flames. She ignored it and the look it was attached to, hiding the small smile which wanted to appear on her own face behind her coffee cup. Or she tried to, but he filled his life with picking up on the small details. Especially when it came to her. So even though her smile was tiny, breezing across her lips, the one he shot in return was a full on brilliantly white grin.

The way she bit her lip for a brief minute in response made him feel like cheering. Because that looked like the wavering of self-control and maybe even a little bit more crumbling of her gargantuan defences.

Was it wrong to be so hopeful? Probably. If she shot him down in flames again, whether it be a similar situation to last time or something different, he didn't think it was the melodramatic writer in him which would consider that a heart-breaker.

She hadn't looked away yet. Instead her gaze was considering and he swallowed, attempting to relieve a suddenly bone dry mouth,

"Whilst we're on the subject of me giving you things," he continued. He saw her eyes narrow and rushed on before she could even try to interpret that in a way he _really _hadn't meant, "I owe you a meal. What do you say to tonight?"

Her expression went to clear, to startled, to wary in such a short space of time his mind had convoluted it into _clearstary_ before he could even begin to process the fact it wasn't even a word. If he had to pick one, he was going to go with wary.

"Dinner," she sighed the word. He nodded,

"The meal normal people eat when they finish work at a normal time," he explained, "The one you – agreed to let me cook for you? Our bet?"

_Please God don't let her renege –_

"I remember, Castle," she rolled her eyes at him, "Tonight?"

"Sure," he nodded, "My apartment, I'll cook," he paused a beat, "And I'll even leave the Precinct early. How about that for a deal breaker?"

She looked more tempted after that offer than she had at any other point in his spiel. And finally she nodded,

"Alright," she said finally, "Tonight. On condition that you do not _try anything_," she hissed the final words at him and he offered her a mock-offended look,

"As though _I_ would do such a thing," he protested, "If I remember correctly, _you _ –"

"Castle," her tone was immediately sharp as she cut him off and he grinned,

"Of course. My bad. I won't speak of it again," he promised, "Your suspect is here. Just so you know,"

She turned sharply at that and, upon seeing the unkempt and loudly protesting man being guided down the corridor towards them, she let out a soft noise of impatience,

"Oh this one looks like it's going to be fun," she muttered. Castle made a noise of agreement,

"Although," he pointed out, "If he carries on talking that much _in_ the interrogation room, you might get some straight answers for once,"

* * *

"Lady, your boys had _no right_ to bring me down here," Harry Walsh rose to his feet as they entered even though his hands were cuffed to the table, "I ain't done _nothing_, OK? I was minding my own business, getting into my _own_ apartment and they drag me out here? That is not cool!"

"I'm Detective Beckett, call me 'Lady' again and see what happens. You were found with drugs, you were wanted for questioning in relation to a murder ... Sit down," Beckett spoke curtly and the man paused for an instant before slowly retaking his seat, "Thank you. This is Richard Castle,"

"Ooh, the book dude right? I saw you in the paper with that hot chick. You know the one from –"

"Mr Walsh, you know a man called Daniel Weston?" Beckett over-rode him, not entirely sure she could actually face mention of Natalie Rhodes _that _early in the morning. The man blinked, looking from Castle to her in the same instant.

There was no mistaking the look of regret which appeared on his face,

"I knew him," he agreed,

"So you already knew he was dead," Beckett spoke calmly and the man nodded,

"Yeah."

"You knew he was dead before anyone released his name to the press?" Castle looked surprised and then he glanced to Beckett, "Is that almost as good as a confession?"

"_Confession_? Whoa, no," Walsh immediately looked agitated, "You got this all wrong. Me and Danny were friends, OK? No way I'm gonna pop him,"

"So how did you know about the murder?"

"You say I'm here in relation to a murder, you ask me if I know him – what am I supposed to think?" the man looked between them, "The drugs I'll give you, _for personal use_, but there is no way in hell I killed him,"

"So how does a drug user remain friends with Daniel Weston?" Beckett surveyed him, "You've got a rap sheet, you've even done a little time. He doesn't even have a parking ticket. What gives?"

"Well –" Walsh actually looked as though he were debating the question, but then he smirked, "Maybe it had something to do with the fact he didn't get caught?"

"Caught doing what?" Castle looked intrigued and Walsh actually raised an eyebrow at him,

"You're seriously asking me that?"

"Yeah. We're seriously asking you Harry. Because if not, if you don't help us, I'm going to hand you over to Vice. And I hate to break it to you, but the amount you were carrying, personal use isn't going to be high on their guess list for your stash. So tell me what you mean and tell me where you were two nights ago,"

He pulled a face at that and Beckett stared him down. But finally he nodded,

"Danny dealt for me," he said uncomfortably, "He had the respectable look, you know? I don't know who he sold to or whatever, but when he got the stuff he sold it. We both made a tidy profit and that's it. End of story. It's how we know each other; it's why we meet up so regular and what else? Oh yeah, it's why _I didn't kill him_. Who kills off their golden goose, huh?" he shifted his wrists uncomfortably.

"So Weston dealt drugs," Castle spoke slowly, "Well at least that explains the note,"

"Note?" Walsh looked startled at that, "You got a note?"

"A note was left with the body," Beckett nodded briefly. Walsh visibly paled,

"Oh man,"

"You know something about the note?"

Walsh fidgeted uneasily and Beckett frowned and almost went to reiterate her threat. But then he nodded,

"Danny mentioned he'd gotten something like that. Someone warning him he knew what they were up to and everything," he muttered the words, "I told him not to worry about it, you know? A threat on paper? Not that big a deal. Someone comes at you with a gun, a knife, I said pay attention then," he licked his lips nervously, "He showed it to me. Real posh voice, right?"

Beckett and Castle exchanged glances,

"Do you know where he put the note?"

Walsh shrugged,

"I wasn't his keeper. He came in, pretty shook up, said it got delivered to his house, wanted me to sort it out –" he paused for an instant, "I told him to calm down, all that crap and then sent him on his merry way, you know?"

"You knew Danny well, Harry," Castle leant forward, "Tell us. Where would he keep something like that?"

"_I_ _don't know_," repeated the man irritably, "Ask his wife. She knew all his other business,"

"She knew he was dealing?" Beckett spoke sharply and he smirked,

"No. That was one secret he actually could keep," he sounded smug, "But she should know where he'd keep something like that,"

Beckett nodded and the man lifted his wrists as far off of the table as he could manage,

"This mean I can am-scray now?" he asked, "I did what you asked, repay the favour?"

Beckett hesitated for an instant but then she nodded,

"Yeah. But – stay in town,"

Castle smirked at the familiar words; it was nice to know some things didn't change.

* * *

Walsh disappeared out of the Precinct, sans his powdered goods, as fast as he could once they were out of the Interrogation room and Beckett, with a tired sigh, sank down into her desk chair, reaching gratefully for the infinitely cooler cup of coffee she had left there. Castle sank down into his own seat, studying her with slightly raised eyebrows,

"So..."

"So what, Castle?"

"What's the plan?" he prompted. She turned to look at him a little incredulously and he grinned,

"I know the general outline, I was just hoping you could make it a little more chronological for me," he prompted, "Like – are we going to wait for both of the boys to get here or are _we _going to go and see Mrs Weston again?"

"Well – the note would be nice," she agreed, "And Ryan is already back. You think I would have let Walsh walk out of here before he got back?"

"But Esposito still isn't in," he pointed out, "Which is why I said _both_."

She bit down on the urge to get into the bickering match he was evidently after and glanced to her watch, then she reached for the car keys in her desk drawer. He grinned,

"Would now be a wholly inappropriate time to squeal and shout 'Road Trip'?"

"If you even try I will shoot you," she responded idly, "And I don't think the Captain will be too impressed with losing his Poker Buddy,"

Castle grinned,

"Fair enough," he agreed, "Lead the way Detective,"

For all the more level atmosphere, Beckett's thoughts were churning. Sure, the case was bothering her. They had no face, no name, no suspects and one mystery note with the potential for another in the hunt for their killer; it was enough to bother anyone.

But if she was being honest, and for a rare moment as she followed Castle to the elevator she was, the predominant thought swirling through her mind was the evening Castle had proposed. She'd figured the bet would give her time to breathe, get her bearings and maybe figure out exactly how to compartmentalise this – _thing_.

She had not expected him to bounce back and offer her the deciding meal with brief days of receiving the 'mistake' speech from her. Sure he'd made her breakfast and delayed her departure, but it was Richard Castle.

Scratch that, it was the _ego _of Richard Castle she'd been counting on. A part of her had been hoping that having been jilted by both his muse and a woman in a romantic sense he'd give up on any kind of endeavour.

But apparently not.

And now she had a dinner date (?) to look forward to.

And the question mark she had to keep inserting there was killing her.

"Detective?" Castle was holding the elevator doors for her, brow crinkled in confusion, "Are you joining us?"

A faint hint of colour touched her cheeks as he drew her out of the introspective moment and she stepped to join him, and the three other people, quickly. He chuckled as he finally let the doors closed,

"Lost in thought?"

"Let's just go and talk to the wife," she sighed.

**I am also aware that this one is weaker (?) shorter (?) and possibly nothing like what you actually wanted to read in this story. But the next one is the first meal. Did I say first? I meant its the bet. I wonder who will win? Lol. Let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading :)**

**Oh. And any mistakes are totally mine. Feel free to point them out.  
**


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